


A Longing For More Than Your Lonely Company

by bafflinghaze



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Deer, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Midnights, lonely Draco, pre slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 20:15:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11790648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bafflinghaze/pseuds/bafflinghaze
Summary: Draco Malfoy has returned to Hogwarts after the War, but he is alone. Meeting a deer by the Forbidden Forest at midnight makes that all the more clear. At least he gains a companion of sorts—until even the deer starts to avoid his company too.





	A Longing For More Than Your Lonely Company

Draco needed to get out. Out of the Eighth Year dorms. The Hogwarts corridors, silent, dark but for the starlight—were too confined. Too many looming shadows, the echo of the daytime loud in his ears.

He made it to the front doors, pushed them open, temporarily escaping. The grounds were empty and open. For a moment, he felt free—until the sense that he was _exposed_ set in.

He didn’t know what perverse feeling made him head towards the dark greenery of the Forbidden Forest, but he did. He stopped at the edge of it, peering through, trying to see anything through the trunks. _A night-seeing charm_ , he noted to himself. Next time, he might be brave enough to enter. If he were stupid enough to risk his neck. If he felt _not-right_ enough that he had to go in and explore.

There was the sound of foot steps—rather, the clop of four legs. Draco took a step back, and turned away, quickly heading back to Hogwarts castle, heart thumping and ears straining for any sound that he was followed. He wasn’t, but when he turned round for a quick glance, he could _swear_ that there was some creature there, at the edge of the Forest.

*

Almost a week later, a waxing moon in the sky, Draco made his way across the deserted grounds once more, headed for the Forest. His wand was gripped tightly in his hands, his legs relishing the free movement, his lungs the fresh air, his ears the quiet. He stopped at the edge of the Forest, heart thudding in his chest. He cast the eyesight charm—he blinked when it worked surprisingly well, turning the dark shapes into trees and leaves and branches. He could make out the dead leaves and twigs scattered across the forest floor; he could pick out the tiny mushrooms clustered in the shadows.

He was pleasantly surprised to be able to name many of the plants and flowers, as he walked down the perimeter.

Draco tensed when he heard the sound of steps. His wand gripped tightened til it threaten to cramp. He turned slowly, stepped back, peered into the Forest to see who—or _what—_ it was.

A _deer_.

He blinked, and then squinted. It was a _deer_ , and it was much more mundane than Draco had feared.

The deer shifted its head, turning to the side a little so that it could regard Draco with one eye. It didn’t move any closer though, and boldness sprung up in Draco.

“Hullo,” he said quietly.

The deer blinked, and turned, and trotted deeper into the Forest.

Draco gave a little huff, annoyed at himself for being so silly.

*

The moon was full overhead as Draco hurried over to the line of the Forest. In his bag, he had star charts, a picnic blanket, and fruit. He didn’t go too close to the Forest this time, but he did head far away from Hogwarts as possible.

His eighth year was going _fine_. It could be so much worse. He couldn’t _complain_ , but that didn’t mean that he didn’t want to escape.

He set up the blanket and took out the star charts. In the end though, he only gave a perfunctorily glance at the charts, because he _knew_ the skies, the stars, the moon.

It was...a lot nicer than his dorm bed, where he was always hyper aware of the other Eighth Year boys. Here, he needn’t worry about that.

But it was more lonely stargazing by himself than he had expected.

A familiar sound had him sitting up, twisting to look back at the Forbidden Forest. The deer stood at the very edge—at least, Draco _assumed_ that it was the same deer. He kept his eyes on the deer as he grabbed an apple from his bag.

The deer took a step out of the treeline.

“Hi there,” Draco said quietly.

This time, the deer didn’t leave, but took a half step forward. If anything, it looked quizzical.

“I was just looking at the stars,” he explained.

The deer blinked.

 _Right, okay_. Draco slowly stood up and held the apple out. “Here.”

The deer took a few steps forward.

Draco took a few steps forward too, and it was like that that they met in the middle. Up close, the deer was much larger than Draco had expected, but it wasn’t as though he could run _now_.

The deer took a tiny few steps forward, extending its neck out. Delicately, it bit into the apple and lifted it off Draco’s hand.

Before he could stop himself, Draco grinned widely. “Apples are my favourite,” he admitted. “I have some more, if you want some?” He felt a little foolish about talking to the deer, but the deer seemed to respond, so Draco went back to his bag.

He was surprised when the deer followed him, but pleased. He gave it a few more apples, and had an apple for himself.

After a few more apples, the deer started nosing Draco’s bag, and then nosing Draco.

Draco shook his head, his mouth curling into a smile. “That’s it, I’m afraid. I’ll remember to bring more next time.”

The deer huffed, and with a final look to Draco, galloped back into the trees.

Draco shook his head, amused at both himself and the deer.

*

It felt like an ad-hoc camping trip, with his picnic blanket enlargened and spread out, along with pillows and throws, a picnic basket of food and a good book. Draco’s stomach was grumbling by the time he laid everything out and cast a requisite warming charm around the area.

The day...hadn’t gone well, and he’d also missed dinner. He _needed_ this, and so cast some small light charms _anyway_. He propped himself up against the pillows and spread the throws across himself. It was simple to just levitate the food he wanted over.

It was a combination of relief and happiness when he spotted the deer. “You’ll have to come here if you want any food,” he called out.

The deer indeed came up to Draco, and it examined the spread of food almost...human like.

“Help yourself. Though I’m quite sure you really should be eating only the fruit that I have there.”

The deer grunted, but it seemed to stick to the fruit as Draco suggested. It looked up every so often, as though checking up on Draco.

Draco felt something heavy in his chest. What did it mean when the longest conversation he had of late was that conversation he just had with a _deer_? Draco looked at the night around them, at the spread of food, at his book.

“Shit,” he said. “ _Merlin_.” He dropped the fork and knife on the bloody _plate_ he was eating from, resting across his lap. “What am I _doing_?” He was the only Eighth Year Slytherin to come back, because he _had_ too, because it was in his _terms_.

There was no one else except the bloody _deer_ who spent time with him willingly.

He clenched his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. What was he _doing_ , having a midnight picnic like this? He was going to get caught, and there was going to be hell to pay.

He couldn’t—he just.

“ _Shit_ ,” he whispered himself, voice choked.

A nose pushed its way into his face, forcing Draco to sit back. The deer regarded him with its closest eye. It looked _worried_.

And damn, but something that was mentioned in that day’s ill-fated class returned, and wouldn’t it be so utterly demeaning if this deer _was_ human, _was_ an animagus? That it—they—were basically humouring Draco, amused at Draco’s stupidity in thinking that they were just a common animal?

The deer suddenly licked Draco’s face, making him scrunch up his nose.

Common animal or animagus, it seemed _friendly_ , at least. And Draco swore at himself once more, because _friend_ was _not_ something Draco wanted to think about.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said to the deer when it looked like it was going to lick him again. With a sigh, he cleared away his food. He didn’t feel like eating anymore. He just wanted to go back to bed, to the oblivion of sleep.

The deer had other plans though, because the moment the food was packed away, the deer folded its legs and sat down, resting its heavy head right on Draco’s lap.

“Don’t you pity me,” Draco growled. “Get off.”

The deer made a soft rumbling sound and rolled its head across Draco’s lap. But made no move to get up.

Draco stared at it. “What, you want to know what’s wrong? _Really_?”

The deer nodded.

That made Draco thoughtful. He rested a hand on the deer’s neck. It—or _they_ —didn’t seem to mind when Draco rubbed his hand back and forth, then scratching lightly under one soft ear.

“It’s just...” Just what? He didn’t want to spill everything that had happened since he returned to Hogwarts. He felt foolish enough as it was. “It’s just that no one wants me here. Least of all me,” he finally said.

He trembled, not liking how true the words sounded. Now that he had articulated it, it made the entire situation even more pathetic. It made _him_ even more pathetic.

The deer whined.

“What?” Draco snapped. “It’s true. And what was even _worse_ was that we were meant to be casting our patronuses—patron _i—_ today. And I was the only bloody one who can’t. I don’t have any happy memories, do I? I must be a Dark wizard, aren’t I? Oh _thank you so much_ for the reminder that I shouldn’t be here.”

The deer whined louder, but when Draco looked back down at them, the deer looked away _guiltily_.

Now Draco was _certain_ that this deer was an animagus. And after their Defence class today, he also knew who it was.

Draco despaired. “Why are you still here?” he said. “I told you what’s wrong. Are you _happy_ now? That I’m bloody suffering just like you wanted?”

At that, the deer lifted his head, but only to nuzzle against Draco’s chest, making little plaintive noises.

 _Oh Merlin_ , the deer was trying to comfort him. It made Draco so frustrated that this was happening _now_ , not during the day, not in Hogwarts. A secret. Draco felt like a dirty little secret. The name was on his lips, to push away the animagus.

But Draco was a coward, and he couldn’t say it. He took a deep shuddering breath.

Because this was better than nothing, after all. He had nothing to gain if he said that name. He would only lose the tiny bit of contact he had with anyone else.

“Thanks,” he finally said. “I suppose you want the rest of the fruit that I’d brought out?” he continued, falsely lightly.

The deer made a pleased sound, but again, gave no sign of actually getting up.

“Bloody spoilt,” Draco muttered good naturedly. He summoned some of the fruit and fed the deer, one hand absently petting.

It was only when all the food was gone, and that Draco yawned widely, that the deer stood up, and that Draco was able to go back to Hogwarts castle.

*

It felt alright, for Draco to pretend that the deer was merely a deer. And clearly the deer-who-was-an-animagus was fine with pretending being only a deer. And sometimes Draco would even forget, when the deer did a particular disgustingly uncivilised acts and behaviours, and his words would spill out. His frustrations, mostly; sometimes the interesting things that had happened. All through it, the deer seemed to listen thoughtfully.

Winter came, but that didn’t stop Draco trekking out in the snow, bundled up in robes and cloaks. Though now, he spent the nights walking to help keep warm, and the deer walked alongside him. It was on one of those nights that he actually stepped into the Forbidden Forest, feeling suddenly brave with the deer by his side.

They had _such_ companionable nights like this that Draco wondered why the person-who-was-the-deer did no approach him during day light hours. Except, he _did_ know why—because Draco was a _secret_ , because that person did not want to _actually_ associate with Draco. And that would make Draco’s chest tight and his fists clench and he would try to resolutely ignore it all. And then another companionable night would occur and his thoughts circled once again.

It was vicious, and Draco hated himself for it, even more than he hated that person.

*

The deer was not there over the Christmas break.

Draco knew why.

*

The deer was not there after the Christmas break either.

Draco spent lonely nights, walking up and down the Forbidden Forest, but meeting no one and nothing.

Finally, after swearing at himself yet again, he stopped heading out at night.

After all, his workload had increased, he reasoned, and he needed his sleep more than ever. And if the deer, if _that person_ no longer wanted to be with him even during the privacy of night, well, it was _their_ loss, not Draco’s.

*

And he felt extremely vindictive when he caught the guilty looks during their classes.

***

As spring emerged and the exams loomed, Draco found himself outside on the ground at night once more. This time, however, he purposely headed away from the Forest and towards the Quidditch pitch. It was empty, all the better for Draco to fly, up and up, as high as he could, until he had to cast warming charms every minute, until the air burned in his lungs. And then he would dive down with determination, leveling out as late as he dared.

The roar of the wind, the focus on flying, on surviving. That was what Draco needed. Not the damned companionship of someone who didn’t actually want him.

*

One night, Draco saw someone else flying. Scowling, he hurried back inside and felt even more restless.

*

The next time that happened, Draco gritted his teeth and retrieved his broom anyway, and quickly flew far away.

But the skies weren’t his own anymore. So Draco stopped flying at night as well.

It was yet another mid-night activity ruined.

*

Although that exams required personal study, it made Draco all the more aware that he had no one to study _with_. And for all Madam Pince’s admonishes at chatter, there was a low hum of talk between _friends_ in the library, with tables crowded and no space left for Draco but the floor between dusty bookshelves.

“What— _Malfoy_? What are _you_ doing here?”

Draco’s head snapped up, meeting the slightly wild gaze of Harry bloody Potter.

“Given that I was here first, perhaps _I_ should be asking _you_ that question,” he said, voice clipped. He drew books closer, acutely aware of the poor quality of the low table he’d been able to transfigure for himself.

“Ah.” Potter stared. “I was—I was trying to hide from people, you know.”

“Well, this would have been a good location if _I_ weren’t here.”

Potter looked away shiftily. “Does anyone else come here?”

“Since you made it here, your _people_ will obviously follow. Shouldn’t you leave before you’re found talking to _me_?” Draco scowled.

Potter glared at him. “What’s your problem?”

“Oh, nothing. I’m _absolutely_ sunflower fine.” Draco stood up and started to pack away his things. “Hide here if you want, I do not care.”

A group of students suddenly appeared at the other end of the row. “Harry!”

Draco swore and packed away his things even faster.

“Where are you going?” Potter said, clearly hoping that Draco could somehow take him to a different hiding place.

“Somewhere without _people_ , because surprisingly, I’m not in the mood for accusations. So. Good _day_ , Potter,” Draco said forcefully.

Potter shot out and grabbed Draco’s arm. “Malfoy!”

“Let. _Go_.” Draco yanked his arm back. “Deal with them yourself,” he spat out. He would have pushed Potter towards them if he could withstand the touch. He couldn’t, so he near-dashed away from Potter instead.

*

Draco was outside at night again, despite telling himself multiple times that this was a bad idea.

Even worst, he was standing just at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

He had exams _the next day so why in the world was he still awake_. But he couldn’t sleep. The study, the Potter incidences—oh, the plural, as Potter kept finding all of Draco’s hidden study places—had Draco restless and inching to do something brave and stupid and reckless like a leisurely midnight stoll through the Forbidden Forest by himself.

The adrenalin was strong as he walked, each footstep loud in his ears.

And then he saw the bloody deer again. Draco immediately turned and walked away. But damn if that deer wasn’t fast, galloping til he headed Draco off.

When Draco tried to head a different way, the deer blocked that route as well.

“What do you want _now_?” Draco shouted. “What do you _want_ from me? Isn’t it enough that you—that you keep ruining _everything_? Is it so _hard_ for you to just stop for just another few days, until the exams are done? I’m going to be gone soon, out of your way. You’ve made it very clear that you don’t want me around, thank you very much. Just give me these last few days!”

The deer blinked, stumbling back, rump hitting one of the trees. If it weren’t for the frustrated desperation in Draco’s veins, he would have laughed. Instead, he felt like crying.

Rubbing his eyes furiously, Draco headed away, and the deer didn’t stop him this time.

*

The exams done, Draco stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest one last time, before he would be heading home to Malfoy Manor, to be under house arrest for the next few years.

It would his last stint at freedom, if he decided to wander through the Forest.

But he didn’t feel like it.

He looked toward the Quidditch pitch, the open air.

But he didn’t feel like flying either.

He looked up to the sky.

But it was cloudy, the stars hidden from view.

Then, Draco heard the sound of the deer approaching, from the direction of the castle.

Resolutely, Draco turned to face him, geared and ready to fight. But the reality of his life set in and the fight drained out of him, and all Draco was left with was a bone-aching tiredness. “Hello.”

The deer nodded its head cautiously in greeting.

“Our last night. And you have antlers this time. Planning to just kill me now and get it over with?”

The deer stomp one foot, shook his head and gave Draco a look of false confusion.

Draco laughed. It sounded harsh in his ears. “Oh, give it up, Potter. I know it’s you.”

Potter stomped his foot again and tried to look innocent, but Draco did not budge.

“I would like to know why you spent time with me in the first place. Why you didn’t think I’d poisoned the food beforehand.”

At Potter’s whinny and head toss, Draco’s eyes narrowed and he gave a tight smile.

“Ah, so you _did_ think I had poisoned the food. So why did you do any of it? To keep track of me, to make sure I wasn’t up to something _evil_?”

When Potter didn’t turn back, Draco sighed.

“Fine,” Draco said. “Keep your words. Now we either fight or you let me leave.”

Potter started trotting towards him, so Draco drew his wand.

“Fight, then?”

That made Potter stop in his tracks.

Draco had no patience for this. “Make up your bloody mind. Do you want to fight me or _not_? No? Fine, then!” Draco started walking.

Potter once again tried to head him off, but Draco didn’t stop this time. He just kept walking, changing his direction.

“If you don’t want to fight and you don’t want to talk, then let me _be_.”

Finally, Potter stopped and lowered his head. Draco gripped his wand, half afraid that it mean Potter _was indeed_ going to charge at him. His eyes widened when Potter transformed back instead, flopping ungracefully onto the ground in the mess of robes.

Draco forced himself to relax his stance, watching Potter right himself dispassionately. “Talk.”

“How did you know it was me?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Potter, your patronus is well known. Unsurprisingly, your animagus form is the same.”

“Ah.” Potter scratched the back of his neck. “What did you want to talk about?”

“ _Why_. Why did you do all those things?”

“I...I didn’t know you knew it was me.”

Draco kept silent and gave Potter an expectant look.

Potter looked away. “You seemed different, at night. Nicer. Not so scowling and frowny. I just wanted to—I don’t know. Just do stuff. It’s kind of boring going around at night by myself.”

“And then you stopped.”

Potter let out a sigh. “Yeah. After Christmas, at the Burrow, I. You know.”

“I don’t,” Draco said sharply. “You never told me anything. You disappeared. And when I started flying at night, _you_ started. And when I stopped, you started stalking me during the day.”

Potter wrapped his arms around himself. “Can we go back inside? I didn’t bring anything warmer. We could go to the kitchens.”

Draco regarded him silently for a moment, but eventually nodded. “Fine.”

There were still some house elves in the kitchens when they arrived, willingly pressing cups of hot chocolate into their hands.

Draco watched Potter keenly as Potter looked broodingly into his cup. He was about to remind Potter, but then Potter started talking.

About his _fans_ , about never having any time to himself. About gaining his animagus form and running free in the Forest. About finding Draco, and his curiosity about why _Draco_ was there. About Christmas at the Burrow. About...remembering the War. Voldemort. The Dark Mark on Draco’s arm. About Draco’s causticity during the day, and how Potter couldn’t trust either of Draco’s faces.

About how the flying, the stalking, had been Potter’s pathetic attempts at trying to talk to Draco and reconcile in some way.

“Then you’ve finally become successful,” Draco said quietly, after all of that. “We’ve reconciled in ‘some’ way.” Draco stood up. “And to answer your question, I had wanted peace. I had wanted some form of companionship.” Draco gave a short nod. “Have a good night, and a good life, Potter.”

Potter’s eyes widened. “Wait! What?”

Draco was too tired to do more than give a weary reply, “Are my words that hard to decipher?”

“You say that as though we won’t meet again!”

“I don’t expect we will. My two year house arrest starts tomorrow. And even after that, I highly doubt that we will move in the same circles.”

“Well I—I can visit you.” Potter stood up too, giving Draco that plaintive look again.

“You _want_ to? You _do_ realise that my parents would know the moment you step foot in the manor—there’s no hiding. And no doubt _Aurors_ would be monitoring who comes and leaves.” Draco looked away. “You best forget it.”

Potter grabbed his hand. “That’s not a problem,” he said. “I don’t want this to be the last time I talk to you, or see you.”

Draco look pointedly at their joined hands. “That remains to be seen, but sure, consider yourself with an open invitation to Floo to Malfoy Manor then. Provided the Ministry allows us to keep the Floo open. Satisfied?”

Potter bit his lip. “Yeah.”

Draco brought his other hand up, so that he clasped Potter’s hand between both of his. “Then good night, Potter.” He gave Potter’s hand a gentle squeeze and let go.

“Night,” Potter rasped out.

*

Draco could spot Potter and his fans immediately, hindering the flow to students leaving the Hogwarts Express.

All around him were the happy reunions of parents and their children. But Draco’s parents weren’t waiting for him, since they were under house arrest. No, he had been informed ahead of time that two Aurors were waiting to escort him directly back to Malfoy Manor.

So it was with great reluctance that Draco looked around, trying to spot the red uniforms.

“Malfoy!”

Draco frowned and turned towards the sound.

Potter ran up towards him, a shifting mass of people slowly following in his wake.

“Yes?” Draco said politely.

“Do you think I can come for dinner tomorrow? I’m free then,” Potter said brightly.

“Oh.” Draco blinked. He saw the two Auror approaching from behind Potter. “That would be lovely,” he said. “Do you have any food allergies I should be aware of?”

“Not that I know of,” Potter replied easily. “Thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Indeed.”

The Aurors had reached them.

“Mr Potter,” one of them said, “Draco Malfoy isn’t bothering you, is he?”

Potter amplified his grin. “Not at all. We were just making dinner plans. What are you here for?”

“We are here to take Draco Malfoy to his house from where he will strictly remain for the next two years,” an Auror said. The other gave Draco a narrow-eyed look.

“Oh, I heard about that,” Potter said dismissively. He turned back to Draco. “Have a good and safe trip home, Draco. I’ll see you soon.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Harry,” Draco replied. They grinned at each other, initially fake, but soon growing with their inside joke.

There was something satisfying about leaving the Aurors, with the knowledge of Draco’s and Potter’s _friendship_ stark in the minds of the people around him.

But there was something even more warming about knowing that Potter really did want to have dinner with him. Draco was exceedingly glad of whatever feeling it was that made him go towards the Forbidden Forest, all those months ago.

Because the empty loneliness in Draco’s heart was starting to fill up, after all.

  


_The End._

**Author's Note:**

> Given that Harry's patronus was a stag, I wondered what would happen if his animagus form was also a stag/deer, rather than the usual fluffy cat or rambunctious dog. In the end, I didn't put in as many deer-related things that I could have, but I hope you enjoyed reading this :)


End file.
